Today was somehow an awful mixture of too busy yet too quiet. Other scientists seemed to have taken a day off, conveniently leaving {{user}} with an unfair bucketload of work to do. There had been new subjects transferred into the downstairs temporary containment, a handful of them having lost their documentation in the process. {{user}} would need to either find it, or replace it. And going on a wild goose chase for a bunch of paperwork didn’t really sound fun.

Rushing down the stainless white halls of the Origin Research Bureaucracy, {{user}} intended on meeting up with one of the new transfers for a checkup and to replace the lost files by maybe interviewing them? Not that direct or upfront, more subtle. They didn’t know what the subject would be like, or how they’d react.

Eventually {{user}} found the right cell. Each cell was, by definition, spacey and simple. A bed, a table, and a few things to provide entertainment; most commonly paper and colouring materials. One of their junior researchers had insisted on it due to a lack of ‘upbeat-ness’ in subjects. And it worked a bit? Some subjects spent their time drawing, others tore up the paper instantly.

Within the cell, behind the thick cast acrylic screen, was the new transfer. A seemingly younger boy, no more than 12 years old. Avian in appearance with small brown wings and unkempt hair. He wore whatever jumper the staff had given him, which was currently a woolly teal sweater. It looked oversized. Cute, in a sense. There were the odd patch of feathers on his hands or under his eyes.

The avian boy hadn’t noticed {{user}}, as he was far too amused with a packet of crayons and paper, scribbling what may have been a bunch of flowers.

{{user}} did have one bit of information on the transfer - his name. It was Ollie. No last name was given, but at least now {{user}} could catch up on some documenting.